


Every time I look at you

by crookedcrown



Series: Please forgive me, if I act a little strange [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Comics), The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25333474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedcrown/pseuds/crookedcrown
Summary: Sometimes, when the mood suits, Joe and Nicky pretend to be strangers meeting for the first time.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Please forgive me, if I act a little strange [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837468
Comments: 121
Kudos: 1148





	Every time I look at you

**Author's Note:**

> Just when I thought I was out (of fandom), they (immortal husbands) pull me back in.

The sun is starting to set over Nicky’s shoulder as he finishes the last of his espresso. The branches of the tree behind him cast a swaying shadow across the table. It’s lovely to see but the retreating sunlight is being reflected off the metal surface and into his eyes. He considers moving one table over when the scrape of a chair has him squinting up at a man across from him.  
  
“Hello,” he says. His face is relaxed, eyes soft.  
  
Immediately Nicky feels his breath hitch, the tightness across his chest that he should really be used to by now.  
  
“Can I sit here?” The man continues, and gestures to the empty seat.  
  
Nicky looks at it before glancing around them, at the many empty tables. He looks back up at the man and shrugs, “I suppose.” He keeps his face as neutral as possible.

  
  
He recalls earlier, when Joe was explaining the rules to Nile. “I think it’s sweet,” she had said, grinning at Nicky. Joe nodded along, “Yes, I am very sweet.” He looked at Nicky, eyes bright, “And I am winning.”  
  
Nile turned to Joe, brow furrowed. “What? How?”  
  
“Nicky always breaks first,” Andy said as she sank into the armchair beside them.  
  
Nicky sighed as Joe elaborated further. Told her about the bets and the tallies they kept, and Nile could not stop laughing.  
  
“It isn’t fair.” Nicky finally stepped in to defend himself.  
  
“Yes,” Andy agreed, pointing a finger back at him. “I have lost so much money on you.”  
  
  


It isn’t fair, Nicky thinks again as he watches the man sit, setting down his sketchpad. The sunlight catches the ringlets of his dark curls. Nicky had been running his fingers through them only this morning when Joe was still sleepy and warm in his arms, making soft pleased noises that Nicky felt more than heard.  
  
“I’m Joe,” the man says easily. And Nicky is thankful that he isn’t trying to do another absurd and possibly offensive accent again. Once he had tried Australian, even though they have never been there.  
  
“Nicky,” Nicky says.  
  
Joe glances at the book in his hand. “You like poetry, Nicky?” He draws out his name, the way he often does when Nicky has Joe’s knee over one shoulder  
  
Nicky carefully breathes through his mouth. “Sometimes,” He flips the book shut and curls his hand into a fist. He very, very carefully digs his nails into the fleshy part of his palm. _Focus, focus._ "Though, occasionally, I find it can be a little over-the-top.” He is rather pleased with how unperturbed he sounds.  
  
Joe chuckles, low and warm. Their eyes meet, “There is a time and a place for it, I’m sure.”  
  
A waitress appears at their table and places Joe’s coffee in front of him. She looks at Nicky’s empty cup. “Would you like another?”  
  
“Yes,” Joe speaks before Nicky can answer. “Another for this fine gentleman, please.”  
  
Nicky can’t help the smile as he glances at Joe, who is now leaning forward with both elbows on the table, looking quite delighted with himself. Nicky turns back to the waitress. “Yes, thank you.” She gives them an odd look before departing.  
  
“And you,” Nicky says, like they had not just been interrupted. He gestures to the sketchpad lying between them. “You like drawing?” There are fresh pencil smudges on his fingertips. Nicky has to pretend Joe wasn’t furiously sketching him from three tables away 10 minutes earlier.  
  
Joe nods. “Are you any good?” Nicky teases, likes to see the flush rise from Joe’s neck as he shakes his head.  
  
_Liar_ , Nicky thinks and can’t help the curl of his lips. Oh, how his own body always betrays him around Joe, because of Joe, for Joe.  
  
“I dabble,” he drums his fingers across the sketchpad. Nicky recalls many, who history now remembers as the greats, being impressed by Joe’s talents, had urged him to showcase his art.   
  
But as much as Joe can be loud and joyful, full of charming bravado, there is still a shyness to him that really only Nicky gets to see. The way he can sometimes underestimate himself, even after all this time. Nicky feels it again, blooming in his chest. He desperately wants to touch Joe, wants Joe’s capable, artistic hands on his body.   
  
Nicky remembers the last time they had done this in an overcrowded bar in Barcelona. Joe had pressed his chest against Nicky’s back, curled his hand around Nicky’s hip where his thumb grazed the exposed slither of Nicky’s skin. Joe’s other arm stretched out over his shoulder to wave down the bartender. He then turned to whisper something to him, but Nicky had zeroed in on all the places Joe was touching him, and Nicky was done.  
  
Andy had looked so disappointed in him, while Booker whooped and threw all his newly won notes into the air.  
  
Nicky resists.  
  
“What brings you to Amsterdam?”  
  
Joe considers his answer, brow furrowed and a hand rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “I am untethered.” He sighs and rolls his shoulders back. “I go where the wind takes me.” He squints out towards the setting sun.  
  
_Outrageous!_ Nicky doesn’t even try to hide his eye roll. Nobody speaks like that in the 21st century. _You are a ridiculous man, and I love you_ , he certainly doesn’t say but he can tell by the way Joe smiles, that Joe hears it anyway. He winks. _  
  
_ Nicky feels himself losing, feels his resolve crumbling away under the weight of Joe’s warm, affectionate gaze.  
  
The waitress returns with Nicky’s coffee and he is granted a reprieve. He lifts the cup to his mouth and pretends the coffee isn’t scalding hot as he reassesses.  
  
Joe is leaning back in his chair now, thumb casually dragging back and forth across his bottom lip and Nicky is not being distracted.  
  
They sit in silence for a moment. Nicky peering at Joe. Marvels at how easily he fits into this modern world. His casual confidence and easy grace from when he lifts his sword to prudently deciding on which chocolate bar in the supermarket. He wonders what they would have been like if they were born now, merely 30 years ago. If this is how they could have met, at a sidewalk cafe in a faceless big city. Would they have met at all- Nicky extinguishes the thought before it’s even fully formed. He puts down his cup.  
  
“You know,” Nicky finally says, as the insides of his mouth heals itself. “You remind me of someone.”  
  
“Oh?” Joe shifts in his seat. Nicky can see the surprise in his eyes, and takes a moment to bask in it. “Who?”  
  
“Someone...” Nicky begins, locking eyes with Joe, drawing it out. “Someone I met a very long time ago.” He lets the moment sit for a bit longer, until he sees the slow arch of Joe’s eyebrows. “He was...boisterous.” He chooses his words carefully. “Some would even describe him as uncouth, when first meeting him.”   
  
Joe scoffs and crosses his arms. He glances away for a moment, but his eyes slide back to Nicky almost immediately.  
  
“And they would be wrong.” Joe smiles then, eyes downcast. “How foolish, how easily misled.” Nicky continues. “They had no idea how unfortunate they were, and how miserable, to not know this man like I do. Did.” He corrects himself, “They did not see the gentleness of his heart, the depths of his devotion, his loyalty. The way his breath hitched when you kissed him”, Nicky taps the underside of his jaw, “right here because he is a little ticklish.” Nicky pauses, “They did not know what it meant, what it felt like, to love and be loved by him. I pitied them.” Nicky can feel the wetness in his own eyes. “He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.”  
  
Joe is pinned in place, heavy-lidded, like he had only just awoken from a deep trance. “Nicky...”  
  
  


Nicky can’t fit the key into the lock, not with his hand twisted behind his back because Joe has him pinned against the door. “Joe,” he tries to say, but he feels breathless, is breathless. Joe’s mouth and hands are everywhere. His hair, his face, against his chest. His thigh pressed between Nicky’s legs. “Wait,” Nicky uses all his willpower to whisper, but Joe’s lips are on his, his tongue in his mouth. Joe’s hands undoing his belt buckle. Nicky drops the keys.  
  
Miraculously the door gives way behind them. They barrel into Andy who prevents them all from toppling over. Nicky is fairly sure his flailing arm smacks her in the face.  
  
But even Andy’s irritated, “Hey!” doesn’t stop them in their tracks as they continue down the hallway. Shoes are kicked off, jackets discarded. Somewhere, far in the back of Nicky’s mind, he is impressed by their coordination. They pass Nile in the living room. Her head popping up over the back of the sofa.  
  
“Who?” She shouts out after them. Nicky wretches his lips from Joe just long enough to shout triumphantly, “Me!"  
  
He catches the tail-end of Nile’s delighted crowing and Andy’s annoyed sigh before the door shuts behind them.

**Author's Note:**

>  _Help me out here  
>  All my words are falling short  
> And there's so much I want to say  
> Want to tell you just how good it feels  
> When you look at me that way, ah  
> When you look at me that way _  
>    
> 'Please Forgive Me' - David Gray


End file.
